He could have given his life.

Jacuzzi. That was his only solace. Just before he stepped into the clear water gushing with bubbles, he looked into the mirror. But what he saw, was what no one else had seen. The symmetric face, bushy eyebrows, dry lips,  hazel eyes and  curly hair were just pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that he hadn’t solved yet. He had the innate ability to find vastness in everything. The face was an open sky of bursting life that had the good juxtaposed with bad and, likewise, the happy with sad and the beautiful with ugly. His bushy eyebrows were the  canopy of oak trees planted on each side of an endless road. The dry lips were the desert that anxiously awaits its first drop of rain for a millennium, just like he awaited his first kiss. The hazel eyes were filled with the depth of a gloomy ocean. And the hair was the flock of birds that soared high in the sky of life and breathed of freedom. But with all these infinities combined he couldn’t understand what greater infinity was he, nor would he ever. After stripping himself of every clothing, he splashed his toes in the warm water. When he finally felt the smooth ceramic of the tub touch his posterior and the gentle waves of the Jacuzzi caress his chest and thighs, a sudden stroke of relaxation crept up his spine; he shivered with an orgasmic relief. Gently, he curled his head back and saw the ceiling which was lit with the interplay of the shadows of the grape vine.


One of my works. Water color.

What could he have given to be different? His life. Ever since he came out , his life had been reduced to trips to counselors that touted they could make him ‘normal’ again. After being in the closet for fifteen years, he realized that he had grown too big for the closet. But it was something he regretted. The revulsion, repulsion and solitude had already taken their toll on him. People in his life always expected something from him. But what he wanted was never in someone’s mind. All he wanted was to be loved, to be needed and to be looked after. His expectations were like a dark silhouette that followed him around. It was amusing that everyone said that he or she understands him, but only did he know that no one ever did. He gently rubbed the soapy water on his tanned arms and took a deep breath. He  immersed his head inside the clear water. Slowly and then all of a sudden, he opened his eyes. Waves of water rushing past his eyes, the smell of lavender that seemingly assimilated on his skin and the sound of air pumps that now sounded like a sweet lullaby. The ceiling started to glow like stars, which had come together to witness an event.

He popped his nose out of the water. He thought about the shiny razor that he had stolen from his mothers drawer. That very razor which had slipped into his hands. And then in one strike, the stars that had accumulated to witness it had turned red. The smell of lavender faded away as the smell of sweet death replaced it. There, he saw his world changing. The last infinity of all. The end of a dark endless night with the beginning of a new dimensionless journey.

But then he had said that he could have given his life to be different.

Many studies reveal that almost all homosexuals have suicidal thoughts or suffer through depression at some point in their lives. The expectations of society take a heavy toll on the mental health of homosexuals. I hope we learn from this and try to make the world easier for those who are different from us. 


The rebellion within me.

images (1)

With revulsion I perceive,

like a soothing melody

from the lips of thy enemy,

the thoughts that gobble me up,

even if I tell them to stop,

seep out the kindness in me,

turn me into someone,

who isn’t me.

Are these thoughts that make me different?

Or are they just a change.

With a solemn glare,

and an infinite silence ,

the thoughts return,

when world warms itself

in duplicitous covers.

The rebellion that I face,

the nothingness in my debate,

in the oblivion of my fate,

my thoughts found a new place.

A place that hides in the darkness,

the place that is seldom revealed,

it nourishes itself with pride,

with justice and evil, all alike.

The place was somewhere inside,

lurking in the depths of my life.


These thoughts that define,

my disdain for conformity.

The thoughts that compel,

to give up the silence and rebel.

A glance at my face,

wouldn’t be enough to trace,

the war that surrounds my being.



Or is it?





Lukewarm Water.



Your love for me,

is water lukewarm.

Felt great at first,

took me by storm.

Reached my depths,

cleansed my soul.

Taken aback was I,

“How do I react”,

thought I.

Your warmth engulfed me,

even before I realized.

“How do I stop myself,

from falling for your talisman…”

Your love for me

is water lukewarm.

felt good for  a moment,

the next it was gone.

Cold it was when

it left my skin,

shivering was I left,

in sudden dark depths,

that gathered me around,

as I poured on my body,

more water lukewarm.

Dreamy eyes.


As I look into your eyes,

my world stands still.

For the silence between us,

stood against the times’ will.

Two souls but one life.

Two hearts but one beat.

Perhaps, it wasn’t meant to be,

but when I look into your eyes,

it is all that I can see.

With my hand I reach your face,

and with my love I embrace,

the sunshine, as if in my arms,

just as the world in a palm.

For more times are to come.

For more unions destined to be.

Let us drown in the dreamy eyes,

where silence speaks

and everything seems right.

Let us sink in sea of oblivion,

far away from rosy paths,

where I hold your hand,

together we rest in peace.


Bless me father, for I have sinned.




Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

Atone my crimes,

as I tell you where I have been.

Told the truth fearlessly,

stood by my friends truly.

I remained resolute,

and stood alone.

For I didn’t need anyone

to admire my actions.

Nor do I need approval,

neither any support.

For I was meant to be hurt,

to say what was the truth.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

They ask me why

don’t I follow.

Follow the path of lies,

and not tell the truth.

As I defy their conformity,

refuse to follow my ‘duty’.

But I still say to them,

and still say to their face,

I will stand by truth,

till the end of my days.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

Never would I change for them.


The latent fear of change.

I rest my chin on the window of the car. The October wind reminds me of the cold that is just about to set in. My hands reach out to catch the gushing air in fists. The street lights ,which out shined the stars, seemed to sway as the night progressed. The canopies of trees ,along with their elaborate interplay with the streets’ illumination, started to hang lower as if trying to reach my hands. The night was silent, yet young in Lutyens’ Delhi. For once, the noise had suspended itself and let in the melody of silence into my being. The fragrant air assimilated all my worries. I closed my eyes and felt a light reach my soul. Delhi surprised me; she always seemed to lay motionless at night. Even so, empty streets were filled in by the gentle embrace of nature at night. Perhaps, nature’s embrace was more visible when the cacophony of life was seeped away. There I was, amidst my cocoon of contemplation.The silence broke and the car halted at a signal. I started to retrieve my senses. I glanced furtively at my sister who sat beside me. She seemed to take a nap. At my father, who was concentrating on the road and my mother who ,too, seemed feel the embrace of Delhi. My fear crept back. I couldn’t hold it any longer. What if it were all to change? What if a few years from now, things would be different? What if I change? What if everything I see changes? But the motion of the car came to my rescue, and all the worries were yet again borrowed away by gentle autumn breeze.

Change is what governs life. Without change our lives would feel like the same song replayed in a never-ending tape. All of us know that without change, we wouldn’t move ahead in our lives. It was change that gave us strength to pass the days and feel alive. But what if we didn’t want something to change? What if an experience was so pure that you’d want to live in that moment forever after?

Things are destined to change. But some things are best unchanged. Was it that the changes in my life would end everything that I ever cherished? The peace, the calm and the warmth of a drive down Lutyens’ Delhi at night. Were it all to change with time? My conscience wasn’t ready accept it. Without the things that I didn’t want to change, my life would feel incomplete. But what troubled me the most was that changes are beyond my control. They are the fruits of time and destiny. The changes were at the hands of a greater power, of which we all are slaves.


That said, would I have to let go of the things that were beyond my control? Is it that I’d have to give up on all the things,which I want to hold back closer to myself, sometime in future. Neither was I willing to stagnate at one point. But again a cursory glance at my surrounding from the spot that I relish the most at night in our car, reminds me of the things that I’d have to leave behind in the long run. My conscience woke up to a realization. All this time, the calm and peace around me wasn’t an experience that could be materialized. It was rather an abstract state of being. The satisfaction that I attained wasn’t because of the presence of whom I loved or the fragrance of nature, either. It was the emotion that the experience evoked, which wasn’t a subject to change; those emotions were eternal. The feelings of joy, calm and happiness. Those were the things that would stand the ravages of time and still remain unadulterated. Glancing at a distance from the window, I now knew that my hidden fear of change wasn’t something to be scared of. For the bliss that I attain in the moments I cherish, will remain a part of what I am and what I aspire to be.

I know that it is excruciatingly painful to part from the glimpses of the past, but it is far more difficult to let go of the present. Every time the clear glass slides up and disconnects me from my world of thought, it seems evident that change wasn’t what I feared the most, rather losing the ability to change myself in this dynamic world seemed daunting. But for the little time we all have, lets just forget about the inevitable changes and carpe diem.

The nights’ flower.

alone lover

The sweet smelling flower,

of the moonlit bower,

watched on a lover,

as silence spreads its cover.

The lover looked on,

the night went on.

Out there in the lovely lawn,

were the first rays of dawn.

Love was unwavering,

Life was halting.

The flower hath no choice,

other than to rejoice,

in last moments of its fragrance,

a step away from a lovers’ glance.

Yet the lovers’ pain never ceased,

‘Twas destined to increase,

for more nights were to come,

and more flowers to bloom.



Why is it essential to fall in love with ourselves.

Standing on the edge of a building’s roof , a man somewhere around the world is determined to end his life. The intimidating height of the building, suddenly hits his guts and reaches out to him. A voice tells him to stop, to wait and to gather. But he’s determined to end his suffering by giving in to the decent in the arms of gravity. But that voice is still alive. That voice never ceases to exist, even when he edges closer to the brink of the roof.


The noise of the city and the cacophony of human sounds have clogged our ears. Today we fall for others but seldom have ever fallen for our selves: fallen in love with ourselves. We seek the company of others, but never have sought the company of our souls. ‘Loneliness’ should rather be celebrated, but it is frowned upon. Have we ever, for a moment in our lives , stopped and tried to contemplate the consequences of not finding our true selves. The world would not be pleased if we don’t show abstinence and let go of our self-indulging habits. But what does the world have to do with our soul search. Falling in love with oneself isn’t a matter of shame, it rather involves pride. To be frank, who is it with whom you’ll spend the largest chunk of your life? I need not mention the answer, but if you don’t fall in love with that person, then what is the joy that you seek? Your soul needs you more than anything. You need your love. What is the purpose of one’s existence if one doesn’t learn to love. But that purpose gets damaged if one doesn’t learn to love oneself. Your heart is reaching out from the depths of your mind, begging you to claim that unrequited love it has for you. The only way out is to find that voice, to reach the darkest corners of your being and to find the love that is waiting to be found.

Hopefully, if the man on the edge of the roof hears that voice, he would have never dared to reach the edge of that formidable rooftop. Hear that voice. Cherish your soul. This world wouldn’t exist for you if you decide to depart from your body. Essentially, fall in love with you.

Suffer with me. An honest attempt.

Water color? color pencils? thumb painting? Yeah, I am the artist.

Water color? color pencils? thumb painting? Yeah, I am the artist.

Myra smelt the lavenders at last. She gently spread out her arms and felt the light breeze caressing the gaps between her fingers. The grass beneath embraced her bare feet. Silence surrounded the atmosphere. But she could hear the silence speak to her. In fact, she heard that silence hum a soft song into her ears. The pine tree rustling at a distance, confided a secret into her ears. The sky was bluer than the last time she’d seen it.

She giggled. She laughed. She ran after the breeze.

Myra returned to this place again and again, sometimes in her dreams. It was the only place where she felt loved. That day was different. She couldn’t see the shadows. The bright sunshine had lifted her fears. Her body soaked in the warmth of the heavens. Everything was at perfect stillness, as she had ever wanted. Myra wanted to live every moment of it.

But when the feeling of well-being had started to sink in, the mirage of peace was pulverized. The pine trees had conspired. She heard the voices again. The voices made her want to run beyond the infinity of universe and drown in the deepest of the oceans. They controlled her. She often had sleepless nights staring at the moonlit ceiling. Her soul wasn’t hers anymore. She couldn’t hear her voice. She was a slave to the demons that controlled her life.

Myra was quite young when the demons had infested her life. The once happy-go-lucky teenager had locked herself in the cage of her bedroom. The bedroom was the darkest secret of her life. Dark shrouded figures told her tales from purgatory. Those stories conjured up a blazing inferno that roared to life in her bedroom.  She covered her mouth with a pillow and screamed until she went out of breath. The walls were coloured with the words ‘Jesus loves me.’

Myra made futile attempts to run away from her home but the demons drove her right back into the place. Her devastated mind saw an enemy in everyone that surrounded her. She would never let her mother come close to her. Hues of red clouded her vision when she saw either of her parents coming inside her room. It was not long before the day she was handed to the nursing home, when Myra’s parents had seen her sitting at the edge of the window.

She was now frantically running away from the voices. The pine trees seemed distant now. They bid her a cunning farewell. She had evil forebodings. She was now gasping for breath, but her feet didn’t stop.

Myra was having visions of the past. That day when she was forced into that medical van with a small window of light, she tried to stick her hand out to feel the air. The demons had followed her yet again. She felt a pang of fear, every time the canopies of trees blocked the only source of illumination. Everything after that was a blur. The small room where she laid with her hands tied ,the cold atmosphere of the mental asylum and the doctors who were accomplices of the demons : were all a fleeting part of her memory.

She now saw an end to her pain. That last stop where, it all ended. Myra had stumbled upon a cliff. A cliff that was deep enough to carry her to another dimension. She didn’t have time. She had to think fast. Down, she stared. The depth of the cliff was now all-the-more enticing. It dawned on her. It wasn’t her life what she was ending. It was an inevitable death which she was escaping. All she saw down there was a new life. Her freedom was step away. It was her escape. She stepped forward. Gravity embraced her. She gave in to the gentle descent. The demons tried to follow her, but the darkness of the cliff engulfed them. At last, Myra smiled again.

Myra woke up from her dream on the bed with her hands tied. She had to survive another day of submission, before dying again.

Over 24 million people all over the world suffer from Schizophrenia. The onset of this serious psychological disorder generally starts in the early teen years. It is often misconstrued as ‘possession’ of evil spirits. Wrong medication can often exacerbate the symptoms. Schizophrenia is characterized by abnormal social behavior, hallucinations and convoluted thoughts. This was an innocent attempt to peep into the mind of a patient. I,  for a brief moment tried to put my self in the shoes of a patient. I hope I was honest to myself.  

The dark heard me.

Source: Google Images.

Source: Google Images.

It was near. I heard it’s voice.

The silent shrill, the terrible noise.

Out in the dark was something,

I had never seen.

But the problem was,

I didn’t know what it had been.

Some call it the unknown,

demons for others.

But I didn’t know what

took over me and I craved

for the embrace of my mothers’.

The dark and it’s solemn glare,

were enough to tell me,

that the things that you never see

are the most frightening.

When the garb of shadows,

was all around my being,

I realized, perhaps

the dark was an adventure.

Adventure is all we seek,

but it is the dark

that presents the most vagaries

to thee. Hidden in the dark,

might be anything.

The only concern is to

blink and find a new thing.

For the ‘unknown’ will remain

what it is,

when you start to see

every dark patch will

start to tell a story.